Black as Night
by sioux343
Summary: Rachel Black has returned to La Push from college after Jacob leaves to help her father. Except the town isn't the same at all. It doesn't help that a mere teenager seems to suddenly be infatuated with her and she's claimed a traitor to the tribe.Paul/Rac
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This fic. was written PRIOR to **_**Breaking Dawn**_**. You may ask yourself…What is the author psychic? To that the answer is **_**no**_**, but I am very, **_**very **_**good. Jk. So anything in the fourth book MAY be disregarded, though I'll try to make it seem cannon. Someone asked me if this was the first Rachel/Paul fic. and to that my answer is I don't know. But that is pretty cool, huh?** **Anyway thanks to everyone. I hope you enjoy this story.**

I couldn't believe I was right back where I started. I'd wanted to get away from this town. I worked my ass off my entire high school career to get a scholarship to a college in California and now I'm back in La Push.

I tried to remember any fond memories in this town and…I came up with none. Not once had I ever really truly felt connected here. The deep rooted feelings my father felt did not pass on to Rebecca and I. Hence, she was in Hawaii with her dreamy husband.

This little stunt Jacob pulled was something that I would not expect from him. From Rebecca? Yes. Poor Jacob really must have been torn up about this Bella. Apparently I knew her, but my memory of her was kind of vague. Well, Jacob normally wasn't so impulsive… was he? No, that wasn't my Jacob that I knew. He was a happy smiling kid who loved life. Why did he run away? Dad's explanation didn't seem to cover all the questions I asked him. In fact, most of the reasons my Dad stated was that 'he was a teenage boy'.

I waved the cab off and walked up to open the creaking front door.

"Daddy?" I yelled into the small house. I walked into the all-too-familiar kitchen. My fingers immediately found the tile counters. So many memories, I thought I'd locked them away for good when I packed up and left here more than two years ago.

I didn't realize just how long two years really was. Back then I was frantically cleaning the house and planning a much too soon wedding and _now_ I was here to take care of another family member. If I didn't step up to the plate, then no one would.

I stopped in the small hallway leading to my father's room to look at our last full family photo hanging on the wall. My father was still standing at the time, though just barely, holding a young Jacob down long enough to take the photo. My mother stood beside him with her hand on Rebecca's shoulder and I was sitting right in between my siblings. Neither parents were touching me, but that didn't matter because I knew they loved me. I was the good child, the dependable child.

I sigh. I missed my mother. She was taken from us too soon. She was needed desperately.

"Dad?" I open the door and see him sitting up trying to get himself into his wheelchair. "Oh Dad, let me help you. Don't push yourself!" I scrambled over to him to move the chair closer, but he waved me away. When he'd finally gotten safely into the chair, after I was almost sure he would fall, he turned to me huffing and puffing.

"I've been doing it by myself for years, Rachel. I don't need help now." My father told me this good-naturedly, but I was still a bit miffed at this reaction. He'd called me home to help and now I couldn't? Which one was it? He couldn't have it both ways?

"Listen, I'll go make you some dinner. Are you hungry?"

"Don't worry, there's nothing in the pantry to cook anyway. I'll call out for a pizza." My father rolled past me to grab the cordless phone and he _dialed the number by heart._ I was shocked. He told me he'd been eating healthy and everything!

"Dad!" I whispered loudly as he waited for someone on the other end of the line to pick up and take his order. "How many times have you ordered out?"

He just shrugged his shoulders. "Ah yes, Nick? Yep, it's me Billy Black. Yep, the usual. Sure, sure, whenever you have a spare moment, oh and add some cheese sticks. Thanks Nick." My father clicked the phone off and then looked towards me. I noticed his face had aged years. 

I'm not talking about it looked older because I'd been gone; he looked sick and haggard; he truly looked like he might not make whatever lay ahead for the Black family.

"You told me you'd been eating lots of starches and vegetables." I scolded him like a bad kid. I folded my arms over my chest and stared down at my annoyed looking father.

"Don't start that crap now, Rach. You know how much your mother nagged me all the time."

"I know, but she was right." I broke and bent down to my father's face level. "Just try for me. This is the last supper for you. Tomorrow, you're going to be eating like you should."

"Yes, Ma'am." My father chuckled hoarsely. "I've missed you, kid." He wrapped his frail arms around my waist. I leaned into his familiar embrace over his lap. How many times had I run head-long into his arms as he flung me around so easily? Not anymore, I couldn't even remember the last time he'd been able to pick me up. This illness had really taken a toll not just on him, but all of us.

The memories kept pouring into my head. Different things triggering different emotions in me, like his old tobacco smell. I remembered how he would chew it constantly annoying the hell out of my mother. He'd finally quit, but I was almost positive he snuck a little every now and then because he always had that smell. It was forever imprinted on his clothes.

I picked myself up and put my hands on my hips to take a good look around for the first time. "My God, this place is filthy!" I exclaim with wide eyes and look at my Dad. Well, at least he had the grace to look sheepish.

"It's been a rough two years."

"I know. I can hear the poor floors screaming for a good scrub down."

"Rachel," My father admonished.

"Shh! Listen… can you hear?" I leaned close with my hand cupped over my ears. "Waaash me…" I said in a high pitched voice.

"I get the picture. Jake and I just haven't found the time." My father told me honestly and at the mention of Jake's name we both froze. I could tell the wound of his departure was still fresh and he didn't want to talk about it. Well good, I didn't want to hear about it. I wouldn't get any details anyway.

What he did was stupid and irresponsible. Did he even think about how anyone else would suffer without him? Did he pause for one moment and wonder how much his actions had an impact on everyone around him? No, and for that he was definitely going to get an earful. I would never have pinpointed Jacob as the rogue teenage type, but I guess puberty does that to some people.

88888888

It took me a good two days to clean everything. That's really saying a lot because it wasn't like the house was that big. The kitchen was definitely by far the cleanest room and it didn't win by much. The living room was bearable to clean, as was my father's room, but when I got to the bathrooms I had to plug my nose and squint my eyes so I didn't see everything. I didn't want to. There was mold in between the grains of the tiles, there were foreign marks along the walls and tubs that I didn't want to know how they got there, toothpaste was smeared everywhere, products were strewn along the floor half open, and the toilets were just plain disgusting. This is what happens when two men are forced to live together.

Jacob's room wasn't all that bad, but when I started digging I found, well things I didn't want to. I should have expected certain objects, because he is a boy, but I didn't want to picture 

my poor innocent sixteen year old brother, in a fourteen year old body because that's the way I remembered him, as a dirty minded teenager.

I ended up just leaving everything there and walking out. When he got home, whenever that was, he could clean it up himself. As punishment.

I managed to do a bit of grocery shopping with seeing as little of my past as possible. It was inevitable though that I would meet up with a few people. I actually saw one of my old friends from my class at the store, he was the manager. It was kind of awkward because it felt like we didn't have anything in common anymore, just the past.

That wasn't a whole lot of foundation to begin with either. Honestly, the only reason I was friends with half the people I was friends with was because of convenience. We'd just been together for so long, thrown together because our parents happened to choose the same small town to live in.

We were friends because of proximity and when that ended because I moved away, so did our friendships. There was probably only one person I truly missed and that was Rebecca. She wasn't even here though, so that's not saying much to anyone's credit.

Don't get me wrong, I didn't hate La Push. It would always be my home, the place where I grew up, but it wasn't the place I wanted to live. I didn't want to get stuck in this small town. That was my goal in life, but sometimes that doesn't always work out. I decided to transfer in my junior year of college to help out my Dad. Circumstances just change, as do priorities. I was Rachel Black, the responsible college girl who had a part time job and big shoes to fill as the mother of my family. That was who I was and I couldn't escape that no matter how hard I tried or wished or planned or hoped.

This was my life and maybe I could be ok with that.

"This place looks new!" My Dad commented as he wheeled into the living room. I'd rearranged the furniture and everything to try to give him more space to maneuver his wheel chair.

"I try," I told him a little worn out, but he simply beamed at me. That little praise was enough for the hell I had to go through to get everything in order.

We sat down for dinner that night and I'd cooked Dad a stir fry with all the new green vegetables I'd bought for the house. He didn't look too pleased; in fact he didn't eat much of anything. He sort of just pushed it around and he thought I wouldn't notice.

"So what's been, uh, going on around here?" I tried to start up a good conversation. Dad normally loved to be a chatty Kathy. He adored gossip going around the tribe and he loved being the one to fix dilemmas. So I guess you understand my concern when he simply ignored my question. "Dad?"

"Rachel, it's been a real mess around here." He finally managed to strangle out after a long pause. I looked at him in confusion. How much could happen in La Push?

"What's been happening?"

"It's just a mess." Oh, like that explained a lot. I didn't want to push him though so I nodded in understanding.

"Well, I'm sure everything will turn out ok in the end." I stated wisely and ducked my head to continue eating. The table was achingly quiet between my father and I. We weren't really the talkers in the family that was reserved for Jacob and Rebecca.

"Listen, do you think that you could take me over somewhere. I need to talk to Sam Uley, you remember him?" My father said all of the sudden.

"Oh yeah, he graduated with me, right? When do you need to go, now?" My father nodded and wheeled his chair out from under the table. Oh wow, he really meant like _now._My cooking wasn't that bad.

"Dad, we need to clean up the kitchen first and you need to finish eating." I demanded. He looked thoroughly put out and I saw a little resemblance to Jacob in that face. It was the face he'd make to my mom when he knew he'd been bad.

"Aw lighten up."

"We'll go when we're done with all the chores."

"Are you the kid or am I?" Dad chuckled and I just rolled my eyes at him. I earned a huge grin from him. He really was just a big kid. He'd always been that's why he needed my mother around.

We cleaned up, I grabbed the keys to our new car (I found out we didn't have the truck anymore), and we were off to Sam Uley's house. It turns out a lot can happen in two years and I that shouldn't open my big stupid mouth ever again.


	2. Chapter 2

We pulled up to a small cottage, even smaller than our house, and I helped Dad out of the car going against his pleas that he was fine.

"Is this where Sam lives?" I asked my Dad ominously as we stepped up to the front stoop to knock on the door. He just nodded. I looked behind us at the dying day and I tried to take in the beauty of nature. It had been so long since I'd been able to see a sun set against the backdrop of evergreen.

"Mr. Black," I heard the deep voice of Sam greet my father and I turned around just in time for my eyes to pop out of my head. He was _massive_. He must have bulked out a good two clothing sizes and grown a good three inches. His face was nothing like the playful Sam I'd once remembered. The silly boy that I'd grown up with. This was not him; it couldn't be!

"Rachel?" Sam rasped out and I heard my father give a bark of laughter.

"That's her all right." My Dad confirmed looking towards me to give me a small wink.

"You didn't tell us she was coming back." Sam's tone colored with disapproval, much like my own earlier this evening. I felt embarrassed like my father was going backwards in maturity level the more he aged.

"There isn't that much to tell. I'd just decided to help out a little." I told Sam sweetly, falsely.

"Well, come on in." Sam widened the door and I grabbed my father's wheel chair to help roll him, but he swatted my hands away.

"I'm fine."

"If you're sure." I murmured and looked to Sam who was smiling slightly.

We were fully situated on the couch before I heard the bustling in the kitchen. Oh! No wonder Sam wasn't living with his Mom anymore, he was probably married to his high school sweetheart. Duh, Rachel.

"Oh? Is that you Leah?" I leaned a little to the side to get a better look at her moving the pots and pans around, but at my comment the noises stopped suddenly. "Leah?"

"Leah's not here." My father directed at me sharply and I turned to look at him. He hadn't used that tone with me since I was eight and climbed up a tree nearly splitting my leg bones in two.

A woman walked out of the kitchen, she was still smiling or half-smiling. When I saw her face I had to hold my hand over my mouth to stop the gasp that wanted to escape. Her face was marred completely on her left side leaving all her features in the area that the pink lines tainted, incapacitated.

Sam got up quickly to place his big hands on this woman's waist. He looked towards her with concern, like she might break down or something at any moment. I bit my tongue at my stupidity as my father glowered at me. Well, I guess he was the one who deserved to be embarrassed now.

"Rachel, this is Emily, my fiancée. Rachel Black went to school with me." Sam's tone implied that I was obviously ignorant of current events, but Emily didn't seem to mind too much. She was cordial at least. I probably would have been slightly more offended if the guest in my home had stared at my flawed face and called me by my fiancées ex's name.

"How's the college life?" Emily asked my nicely after my father explained my absence to her. He'd been more than generous as all parents are with their kids saying that I excelled in all my classes (which wasn't _that_ true) and how I loved helping my family (it's kind of an obligation). It's just that the University of Washington offered better promises to my major. That 

also was false. I think Emily and Sam knew that Dad wasn't telling the whole truth, but if they suspected anything they didn't voice it.

Somehow in the midst of pleasantries my Dad and Emily carried on I started to wonder, just what the hell was my Dad doing here? Since when had he become best friends with Sam Uley? When he requested me to bring him here I thought he'd loaned Sam a tool from our large shed or he needed to pick up some papers for the town meeting, but no, we'd actually just came here to chat. Nowhere in the conversation did anything come up about my Dad needing something from Sam. I tried to alleviate my concerns with the blatant fact that my Dad was lonely now-a-days, but coming to see Sam didn't really make a whole lot of sense. I knew he had other friends.

"So what brings us here tonight?" I asked to the general area and everyone sort of shifted uncomfortably trying and failing to hang onto the previous topic. It didn't really work.

"I just wanted you to get back in the feel of the town." Dad told me innocently. I gave him a stern look. Good Lord, I feel like my Mom. "Don't you want to reconnect with your old friends?"

"I suppose," I said, but I didn't really. What I wanted was my own life. Not to pretend like I belonged in my old one because that just wasn't who I was. I wanted to forge my own path, yet it felt like something was missing, like a chain link I hadn't located.

I didn't know what I wanted out of life yet, but I knew it had something to do with running a business. That was my major anyway.

"Good, maybe Emily can show you around tomorrow or something." Dad looked at Emily hopefully and she nodded brightly.

"I don't know about that just yet." I confided in them meekly. I'd really been planning to just hideout at my house and wait for the news to break that I'd come back. Then I'd wait for the rumors about why to calm down before I would emerge. I had myself being a recluse until about the time school started in which then I wouldn't even have time to go in town. It was a brilliantly thought out idea, which my father promptly ruined.

88888888

Everybody was around me. I couldn't believe that this was probably half my graduating class and most of them were still here. Emily and I'd walked into town just to do a little domestic shopping here and there when all of the sudden there was Becky who sat next to me in biology and then she was followed by Henry, then more and more until the circle around me was three feet thick with people.

"How was California?"

"Was it different?"

"Did you like it?"

"Why'd you leave?"

Question after question was fired at me like I knew it would be. This was exactly why I wanted to stay home, forever. I couldn't keep up with the chatter and soon I was seriously about to fight my way out of the circle, but then Emily saved the day. Thank goodness.

"Rachel, do you think that you could come to the post office with me? It closes in an hour. Sorry to steal you away from everyone." I could see Emily's right side of her mouth twitching with amusement. Yes, yes, this was just so amusing.

"Of course!" I excused myself out of the mass of people. "I'll catch up with everyone later, but for now, I've got to go." I jerked my thumb in Emily's direction. Everyone understood 

of course, no one protested, but I did get a few new phone numbers to 'call them if I wasn't busy'. Yeah, that was the first thing on my agenda.

"Thanks," I breathed in relief as the people started to disperse behind us.

"Don't mention it. I can read emotions unlike others." Her eyes deliberately flickered to everyone back there. I laughed slightly because really, only one of her eyes moved entirely and that kind of freaked me out. Emily must have caught my stare again, but this time instead of ignoring it she simply shook her head in exasperation. "You can ask you know."

"Ask what?" I feigned innocence perfectly, trying to put on the polite face I could do so well. Emily stopped walking and chuckled without any real humor in her laugh.

"My face," she stated and then she looked at me queerly for a moment as if maybe I did know something more, but the moment passed and I almost wondered if I'd hallucinated because her face was blank once more.

"Oh that." I said and she truly laughed then.

"Yes, _that._ I was mauled by a bear a while back."

"On the Makah reservation? We haven't had that many bear attacks over here."

"Er, no it was here." Emily told me quickly and involuntarily my hand went up to stroke her face gently. I tried to do it with all the gentleness I could, like I was Sam or something and she was fragile.

"That's terrible." I whispered and then both our eyes met. Hers warmed at my gaze, but then something must have caught her eye because they flickered towards my exposed bottom forearm.

"_What's that_?" Emily was too quick for me and she snatched my wrist to pull it away from her face. She twisted it face forward and stared at the purplish bruise that was healing.

"Oh just a bruise, I'm a little clumsy." I tried to laugh it off and Emily didn't seem to concerned because she let go almost instantly.

"You don't strike me as the clumsy type."

"Yeah," that was the only thing I knew to say to that. "Can I ask you a question?" I tried to change the course of our conversation so she couldn't stew on whatever she was really thinking about.

"You can ask me another."

"Good one, well I was just wondering, if you don't mind me asking, what happened to…Leah?"

"She just walked out of the bakery." Leah said from behind us as I heard a door clang shut. Well, I must have the best luck in the world. "Why?"

"Ah, Leah!" Emily managed to sound a trifle cheerful and to make her face look happy that we'd been eavesdropped on. I, on the other hand, couldn't fix my horror-struck face.

"Rachel Black?" Leah breathed out in disbelief. "I thought you were gone for good."

"I thought I was too." I muttered under my breath, but that's the breaks.

"Leah, that's not a nice thing to say." Emily admonished to the ebony haired beauty. I let my breath catch a little bit at just how beautiful she was. When Leah was younger she'd always had a cute face, but the teenage years had been kind to her. Yet, no matter how beautiful she was, her face seemed frozen over. Not one ray of happiness seemed to radiate from it.

"I'm just back for a few months to help my father out." I explained civilly. Leah didn't seem to notice my respect towards her.

"The tribe would have taken care of him. You didn't have to worry yourself." She sneered and turned around to stalk off.

"Yes, but he's _my_ father. So you don't have to worry _yourself._" I spat back, all the respect thrown completely out the window. I was her elder anyway! "I take my question back, Emily. I figured out what happened to her and Sam." I commented loudly.

Leah was in my face quivering from head to toe in a flash. "You know nothing." She hissed viciously and I actually took a step back. Her stone face and wild whipping hair reminded me slightly of Medusa. Her fierce gaze would make any admirable man's will crumble. It wasn't fair that she became better looking the angrier she got.

"Rachel, don't. Leah calm down." Emily commanded with authority. We both looked towards her. I decided that maybe she was right and taking another step back from the situation was a good idea, but that didn't help much when Leah decided to take a step forward.

"You listen to me Rachel Black and you listen good. I serve this community, not you, you left! I'm the one that had to suffer while you went off and did whatever your heart desired. Can I do that now? _No_, so don't you dare pretend like you know _anything about anything_!"

I was actually a bit frightened. No, scratch that, I was petrified.

"Don't listen to her." Emily whispered to me sympathetically as Leah stormed off. Her hair whipped around her like she was a villain in a cape. I was a pretty pathetic superhero though because I'd barely held my own in that argument.

"Is she right?" I asked Emily still staring at Leah's disappearing form.

"She is, but that doesn't give her the right to speak to you like that." Emily said seriously. I turned to look at her absolutely disheartened. Maybe this wasn't a good idea to come back.

Then again at least Leah's verbal assault wouldn't leave a bruise.

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who's reviewed. I know this chapter isn't that interesting, but it is important to the story and I'm just easing Rachel back into the town a little. Tell me what you think! Like it so far? Hate it?**


	3. Chapter 3

I turned around to try and see behind me. Did I have a big red 'X' on my back or something? What the hell was everyone staring at? Three days ago I was welcomed home with open arms and now I'm targeted. It isn't subtly either, though I'm sure they thought they were being inconspicuous.

See they would look polite and friendly, but as soon as I'd walk past them their glares would nearly burn a hole in the back of my head. Then again some were just openly hostile to me. For example, Mr. Schumer at the pharmacy wasn't even trying to pretend like he liked me. He barely let me have Billy's prescription without me having to apologize a thousand times for something I had no idea I did.

Conversations were whispered behind hands and I caught the gist of them. "Leah, was right. Why is she back? Billy didn't need her before and he doesn't need her now."

"Oh sure she comes back _now_."

"We don't need her. Why doesn't she just marry a surfer like her good for nothing sister?"

They hurt. Every last vicious word. The saddest part was I knew exactly what kind of wind swayed their thoughts and actions, Hurricane Leah. She'd meant everything she'd said to me that day. She got her sweet, yet bitter revenge.

So, I threw all my emotions into helping my father. I took him to the doctor because he'd been neglecting to do it himself, we bought him a new wheelchair because the old one was getting, well old, and I finally took him to get a haircut.

"Rachel, I'm telling you I don't need-"

"Yes I know. You don't need, want, or have any desire to cut your extremely split end hair, but you are wrong." I told him and sighed. I'd been repeating that sign of impatience lately. With my father he was so use to telling me what to do, but he never took care of himself. That was how he'd fallen ill in the first place.

A bell dinged as we walked, well I walked he rolled, into the small barber shop on the main road.

"Ah, Billy, it's been…years!" The small man with a white bushy mustache exclaimed to my father looking right past me.

"I know Dave, I know I figured it was time for a trim." My father hoisted himself out of his wheelchair and into the swiveling barber's chair.

I scoffed "A trim? I don't think so. I think you need a good three inches off." My father's face drained of color when he looked at me through the mirror as I was standing behind him.

"I hate to admit it, but I think she's right." Mr. Dave muttered into my father's ear. It was so pathetic. You would have thought my father was two. With every snip of the scissors he winced, I think he even moaned with grief a few times. _Come on_, hair grows back.

Mr. Dave didn't really style it like I hoped he would, he just kept the length even and long enough so that my dad could put it in a ponytail, like always. I rolled my eyes behind the magazine I was reading.

He was just about finished when the door rang again and I looked up to see a whole slew of boys walk into the shop. All of them were massive and only wearing cut off sweat pants.

"Boys! Back for another haircut so soon?" Mr. Dave asked them kindly as he wheeled Billy's chair up for him to move back into. Um, what happened to no shirt, no shoes, no service? These boys didn't meet any of the requirements.

"Hold on, Billy." A boy with a buzz cut walked up to lift my dad like he weighed nothing and put him safely in his wheelchair. My dad didn't protest once.

"Thanks Quil." He mumbled and another boy swept his hand through his smooth glossy hair.

"This hair grows faster than grass." The other boy complained and plopped in the barber chair first.

My Dad must have spotted me because he directed everyone's attention my way. "Boys, you all remember my daughter Rachel, don't you?" All the boys stopped trying to push their friend out of the barber's chair to look in my direction. They knew me? I definitely don't remember any of these boys, but the name Quil had perked up my something in my memory. That was Jacob's friend, wasn't it? I was pretty sure we were related, but which one was he again? They all looked the same. Then suddenly one of the boys in the middle started shaking uncontrollably. I didn't know what was going on and I didn't have time to process anything because everyone was shoving him outside a second later.

"Paul! Calm down!" One boy shouted as he rammed his shoulder into Paul's chest.

"You don't think he could be…" A boy with a thin face trailed off to look at me intently.

"I don't know, Embry."

Dad ended up somehow in front of me as if he was protecting me or something. Everything felt off and I felt dizzy.

"Is he gone?" My father whispered to the one I recognized named Quil. The boy listened momentarily before giving us a steady nod. Yeah…. And he was supposed to know how? He wasn't superman, he didn't have supersonic hearing and that, I know, is a fact. "What the shit happened?"

"Dad, language."

"Rachel, don't correct me." My father nearly growled at me, his face was suddenly more alive than I'd seen it in the past week. His two dark orbs almost glowed back at me and I cowered back. What was up with people and intimidating me? Did I look weak? It seemed everyone thought so. "Go, wait in the car." He directed and gestured to outside.

I huffed and crossed my arms over my chest, but I wasn't one to disobey my parents or parent as I only had one. I trudged to the car and slammed the door because it was the only thing I could take my frustrations out on. I watched through the large window pane in the front. Mr. Dave was gone, probably went out to the back after that crazy display, and my father and Quil looked like they were arguing about something.

I drummed my fingers lazily on the steering wheel and got bored rather quickly. I decided to just make up a conversation in my head about what they were arguing about, just for fun. Hey, it's better than just sitting here.

"Why don't you like my hair, Quil?" I said out loud to absolutely no one besides the interior of the car in a deep raspy voice like my Dad's.

"Why Mr. Black, it's exquisite." I let out a shrill in a particularly high pitched voice for Quil. No he didn't have a girly voice, but it just made my conversation funnier, plus I just saw the real Quil had done this really elaborate hand gesture so the sentence fit perfectly. I hoped to God I was lucid.

"Ah, but you jest, surely?"

"How dare you think such silly thoughts?" I moved my head from side to side to distinguish each person. I was really getting into it and the argument looked like it had reached a paramount point. Both my father and Quil were really going all out in fury.

"You _hate _my hair. Admit it-" I broke off to scream. Something popped out of the dense trees quickly and I caught just enough of it to see a bushy grey tail swish out of sight. _What the fuck was that?_

Quil emerged from the building faster than the speed of light and his shirt was already off his toned torso by the time he reached my side of the car. "What? What happened?" He asked me frantically after yanking open the door. I spluttered and pointed to the place where I'd seen the monster. Quil looked there and then back to me. A certain something gleamed in his eye, but then it was gone and in an instant his face was blank. "It's just trees." He said in a monotone voice.

"There was a monster. A fucking huge, furry monster!" I screeched trying to propel myself back further into the car. I felt vulnerable with the door open. I tried to keep myself in check, but all rational thought was completely gone. I was even cursing!

"There's nothing there, Rachel." Quil persisted as if trying to persuade me I was insane and maybe talking to myself in a car was proof, but I was adamant. I was _right._

"No, I swear I saw it. It was grey and it must be well over six feet tall. I think it… was a bear. Didn't Emily get mauled by one?" I was just rambling my thoughts out loud now. My Dad had rolled up and caught the tail end of my crazy thoughts, but that's just it they weren't crazy. I swear I saw it, right? Didn't I?

"Rachel, if this is a ploy for attention…" Dad trailed off and looked at me sternly. My mouth dropped at his statement. _He_ doubted me? What happened to parents supporting you no matter what?

"I saw the damn thing." I told them stubbornly through gritted teeth. Quil gave my father a look and raised his eyebrows while my Dad snorted with impatience.

"Think about it, Mr. Black." Quil murmured lightly before he disappeared, to where I do not know. He was gone so fast I couldn't even tell you which direction he'd went.

The drive back was relatively quiet and I pretty much expected it because both my father and I were still fuming. For different reasons though. I was furious because he hadn't believed me and he was angry because… well I'm not really sure why.

"I did see it." I muttered and tightened my grip on the steering wheel. Dad looked over to me momentarily before turning back to the window so I couldn't see his face.

"Don't push this, Rachel." My Dad reprimanded me and I took my eyes off the road for a good five minutes. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I wasn't use to this at all. I was being scolded for who the hell knew what and I was twenty years old. I had been reproached more in the last week than I'd ever been in my life for no apparent reason.

**A/N: Sorry this chapter is a little short and that it's taken so long to get out, but I've been extremely busy lately and I've barely had time to write. I feel like I've sort of short ended this chapter a little because it moved a little too quickly for my taste, but oh well. Tell me what you think! Good, bad?**


	4. Chapter 4

Look at me! Two chapters, for two stories, in two days!

I've recently read some of the reviews, which I love so thank you, thank you, but I think a few may have skipped over the first author's note, so I'm just reiterating that my fic.'s first few chapters were written _**PRIOR TO BREAKING DAWN.**_ Yes, yes, Stephenie Meyer's brain and mine must have aligned for a few brief, shining moments when I thought up Paul and Rachel. Is this the first Paul/Rachel fic? I would like to think so (however, it may not be the best due to my obvious neglect). Anyways, read on! Hope you enjoy, I'm a bit rusty.

"I'm _not_ watching her, Dad."

"Rachel, you're a girl. Girls love babies."

"I'm tired."

"Well, I already told Emily you would. So if you don't want to you call her up and tell her yourself." My dad chuckled lowly to himself as he was the only one amused at his statement. He then rolled his wheelchair out from under the kitchen table and made the short trek to the living room to turn on a sports game. I'm not sure of the sport, but it didn't really matter to him. He'd watch anything and everything that was a competition and they aired it on television. This left me too pick up his plate and load the dirty dishes in peace at least.

I couldn't believe that he was making me do this after all the cleaning, cooking, organizing, and shopping I'd done today and now I still wasn't finished. Billy, as if I didn't have a grand night planned filling out resumes for internships, had volunteered me for the task of babysitter to Emily's three-year-old niece, Claire.

It wasn't that I didn't like children. I loved them and practically raised Jacob. I just wanted to stay home for one night, because I desperately needed a break. My father had been nearly unbearable with his nagging for the past two days that I'd been a recluse at home. He practically shoved me out the door to do some more grocery shopping and errands this morning. I really wasn't looking forward to seeing anyone anymore and I'm sure the feeling was mutual with everyone in town so I wanted to just do my time here in La Push for the summer and leave. If I had to find Jacob and drag him back here myself I would, because I was NOT staying any longer than August 1st.

Nevertheless, despite my grumbling to Billy and likening myself a few times to 'Cinderella' or 'Mary Poppins' I arrived at Emily's promptly for seven. I was always punctual; a great habit to get into when living in the real world, but in La Push this was obviously an error on my part. Emily still wasn't dressed, but instead sat on the brown quilted sofa and played with Claire, while Sam watched TV, probably the same game as Billy, next to them alternating his gaze from Emily, to the baby, and then back to the television.

"Oh Rachel! You're right on time! How strange since normally our _other_ babysitter," at this her eyes cut towards Sam in a glare, "is extremely late. I should have known though. It is you after all." She turned back to me grinning and rolled her eyes.

I laughed and smiled along with her trying to cover my uneasiness. What did she mean by that? I knew I was dependable, but she made it sound like it was a bad thing. I sighed. Perhaps I was thinking too much into it.

"Hello Claire, I'm Rachel."

"Raysha!" she cried and extended her arms in my direction asking me wordlessly to pick her up. I complied with her wish and found myself smiling despite my somber mood. She was a cheerful toddler and so well socialized. I'd never seen one actually _want_ to go to a stranger, but perhaps the kid was just a great judge of character.

"Hey Rach, thanks for watching her." Sam nodded toward the toddler in my arms. "Quil, may come around to visit her. He doesn't like being away for too long." That was odd. Wasn't Quil… in high school? Why would he want to play with a three-year-old? I sat there mulling over all the strange thoughts that flooded into my head, hoping the situation wasn't as disgusting as I was picturing it. It seemed that just a few years away from here and things can really turn upside down. I was so absorbed in my own thoughts that I hadn't realized Sam hadn't spoken for a few moments. His mouth hung open and he was looking the other way as if hesitating about telling me something, so I waited while Claire yanked on my earlobe trying to pull out the shiny studs that adorned them. "And if he brings a friend… be nice to him will you?"

"Of course?" I said a little puzzled. I tilted my head and smiled to encourage his faith in me. "Why wouldn't I be nice?"

"Just keep it in mind."

I assured him once more I would before he turned back towards the TV visibly relaxed now. I guess if he wasn't perturbed by a high schooler hanging around a toddler then I would be as well. I turned my attention back to Claire who was, if possible, the more adorable child on earth. I pushed her bangs back away from her eyes and she grinned at me. "Raysha!"

"Where are your toys? Did you want to play?"

"Yessss!" She squirmed happily in my arms signaling me to place her on the ground and she grabbed my hand to lead me down the hallway into a room that was obviously a spare bedroom, but had been turned into 'Claire's Playroom'. Toys were littered all over the ground and it looked like someone loved pink a little too much. Even when I was a little girl I hadn't liked the color, but Claire obviously didn't feel the same way as me at all.

"Baar-bee," she told me very seriously in her cute baby voice that elongated all the vowels. Her heart shaped face studied me for a moment before presenting her beloved doll to me. It was naked and its once platinum hair had been colored some shade of green, but it seemed to be a very important object to her.

I mirrored her stern little face and gave Baar-bee a hug. Claire loved it. From then on she was happy to share all her toys with me. They looked pretty beaten up and I wasn't sure if all the wear and tear could have been from this one little girl. I made a mental note to myself to search the attic for old dolls or toys that Rebecca and I once played with.

Claire liked to babble things and make up plots for the dolls that I could not follow. She was in her own Wonderland and I had no hopes of figuring out the rhyme or reason behind why Barbie liked to ride head first in the car or sleep on the roof of the dollhouse, but I let her lead only helping without hindering her playtime.

The door slammed after a while and I was sure that it was Emily and Sam leaving, but not more than a few seconds later a familiar looking boy was leaning against the doorjamb. "Qwuil!" Claire screeched knocking over Barbie's androgynous lover Ken before running towards the grinning man and leaping into his arms. It was a informal gesture that looked like it had become a frequent routine for them.

"Hey Claire-bear, whatcha doing? I hope your being good for Rachel."

"Why Qwuil not here?"

"You know you're my best girl. I wanted to watch you, but Qwuil had to do grown up things. Remember?" Quil looked towards me. "Hey Rachel, she being good?"

"I good!" Claire told him impatiently and moved his face to look back at her. What a precocious child. She wanted Quil's full attention at all times it seemed without any interference and I was happy to comply as Quil squatted down to place Claire's favorite green-haired Barbie into her hands. They played for a few minutes, while I sat and watched in amazement. Hey, Quil may be a teenager, but he was damn good with Claire. I could now see why Sam or Emily didn't find this strange relationship between them weird, because once you saw them together you didn't doubt for a second that Quil was utterly devoted to the child. Though, 'devoted' seemed like a mild world for what he was. It looked as if their attachment transcended any word in the English language.

Without warning there was a crash in the other room and I heard a loud male voice curse. So I did the only thing I could think of, I panicked.

"Oh my gosh, Quil! What was th-that? Is someone here?" I knew that I must have looked absolutely insane. My eyes were probably darting in all directions and I moved around the room shutting the door and locking it before running to sit behind Quil all within moments.

"Whoa, Rachel, it's just my friend in there. He probably just dropped a plate or glass. He's pretty clumsy." Quil looked around at me disbelieving at my reaction and Claire looked completely unfazed as she hugged her doll. She just stared at me in a bored way as if to say 'Yes-I-knew-you-were-a-little-unwell-and-I'm-not-surprised'.

"I-I just don't like loud noises and yelling. Scares me." I put my hands up against both my ears, closed my eyes to block out the vision of Quil and Claire so utterly content in front of me, and counted in my head to calm the erratic beating of my heart.

Quil let me finish before he stood, picked up Claire , whom he embraced in one arm, and moved over to where I was to rub his free hand soothingly on my back. "Since when are you afraid of loud noises? That's not the Rachel I know." He said quietly.

"You must be confusing me with Rebecca." I covered quickly. It was one of my favorite excuses and it always worked, except now of course when I desperately needed it to. Quil frowned at me in a way that I knew that he knew I was lying, but he didn't comment.

"Let's just go see if he's alright."

I complied and followed him down the hall towards the kitchen, which was all the way on the other side of the house. I turned the corner entering a room that was obviously Emily's favorite in the entire house. Her touch was everywhere in here and it was the one room that had been refurbished inside and out. I was so busy soaking in all the shiny new appliances that my house sadly lacked that I just barely registered a man emerging from a side closet after leaning a broom inside it against a wall. He shut the door with a slight snap and faced my direction. I hadn't been ready for the moment that I turned my eyes fully towards him.

"Rachel, this is Paul. I don't know if you know him. He's a few years younger than you. You may remember him from the other day, at the er… when Billy was getting a haircut."

I stared up at Paul in disbelief. He was impossibly tall and heavily muscled. Cords of them ran up along his arms and legs and he looked like he could smash barrels against his chest as it stretched on and on. It was at least double my width and it was covered in a ragged short sleeve shirt. His blue jeans hugged his powerful legs, especially his thighs, making them seem even more daunting than the rest of him. I could just imagine that predatory wild animals would cringe at the very sight of this powerful creature. I did, at least. How did I not notice him before at the barbershop? His presence overwhelmed me and if this didn't frighten me enough the scowl that looked like it was permanently etched in his face did me in. I found that I had unconsciously shrunk back away from him towards the linoleum countertops.

It was really, really awkward for a few tense moments. I wished desperately I had Claire to hold so I had something to grasp on to for self-preservation. I'm sure I looked like a little coward with the terror showing so plainly every feature of my face. It wasn't like I acted this way around guys all the time, it was just this one had a freakish gleam in his eye that stated plainly where his thoughts were and they were not somewhere a gentleman's would be. _That_ was why I needed to get away. He was much too big for me.

"You're hyperventilating. Why are you so afraid of me?" His voice was gruff. He sounded just like he looked. Cavemanish.

"Why _shouldn't_ I be is the real question you should be asking. You're huge. Aren't you only, like, eighteen?" I asked him in a timid voice and, if possible, his scowl deepened.

"Qwuil! Want movie!" Claire, completely oblivious to the situation, had hit her limit on allowing Quil's attention to wander. She was obviously spoiled by him and without further prompting he was already moving out of the kitchen and running through a list of movies that she vigorously objected to after each one he named. I scurried after them, only all too willing to leave the confines of the room. I didn't have to look back to know Paul's eyes followed, practically burning into me.

Claire had finally picked a movie by the time Paul decided to strolled in to join us. I had chosen to sit plastered against the corner of the couch as far away from the kitchen, and as close to the front door, as possible. I'd, oh so casually, placed green-haired Barbie next to me indicating that I wanted Claire and Quil beside me and Paul Bunyon over there seemed to take the hint.

He sat on the opposite love seat with his arms folded over his wide chest. The set of his face hadn't changed a bit. It was still in the deep scowl and I almost snapped at him to stop or he would get wrinkles, as I'd told Billy so many times after my mother's death, but I just managed to bite my lip before I really embarrassed myself.

We both sat there in silence while Claire and Quil happily filled the emptiness with their inane chatter. Paul didn't look at me the entire time Quil made a little bed for Claire on the couch, or grabbed her favorite snack, gummy worms and apple juice, and even when the movie started he didn't look towards the screen. He just sat there and brooded like all muscular men seemed to do, especially in books. They all, like Paul, probably didn't have enough blood flow in their heads to be thinking about too much though because every other part of their bodies, especially one important piece of anatomy, took up most of the supply.

I tried to stifle my laughter at the thought of the big clueless oaf across from me as a hero in a love story. I couldn't see him being passionate or even tender to the heroine. He wasn't the type at all, the complete opposite, in fact. Yes, he was pretty amazing looking, ok even a little sexy in a way, but I knew he wanted one thing, like most men, and it wasn't love. I was convinced that most of the male population was lacking that specific gene after the few rough years I'd had in college and so I didn't hold it against them anymore. I'd just lowered my standards.

I tried to get lost in the movie, but I found myself contemplating the way Paul had looked at me.

I slid my eyes toward him and jumped a little when I found him staring intently straight into my covert gaze. Had he been watching me this whole time? His eyes raked over me and burned me like no acquaintance's eyes should ever do to another. It was unnerving, frightening, and a tiny bit exhilarating all at the same time.

But, no, I could never have _anything_ to do with Paul. I peered down at my wrist, free from any discoloration that normally marred it. I sighed inwardly. No, I didn't want to imagine, especially with all that muscle, what his punches could feel like.


End file.
